


maybe you can have it all

by bitnotgood



Series: family ‘verse [3]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 16:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14336376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitnotgood/pseuds/bitnotgood
Summary: Then finally, finally James looks up at them and says, “I love him.”“Oh,” Miranda says, simply. As if she really wanted to say,is that all?





	maybe you can have it all

**Author's Note:**

> takes place a week after the previous fic, "something good can work"
> 
> shout out to @purplecelery for beta-ing many moons ago

It’s later than normal when Thomas finally decides to go to bed for the night. It had been an hour since Miranda had gone up, and James has been holed away in their shared office since she had gone. As he makes his way to the bedroom, Thomas stops outside the office to check on James. Before he enters the room James is already saying, “Just finishing up a few things.” 

Usually it’s Thomas who is the night owl, trying to make his days longer by simply not giving in to the lure of sleep. James, on the other hand, has always been a better man with schedules. Early to bed and early to rise, normally. Even now he’ll still be the first of the three to wake in the morning. 

Thomas lingers just a moment longer in the doorway as James continues to tap away at his laptop. As if feeling Thomas’ continued presence, James turns to look at him, offering a smile. He looks tired. “I’ll be there shortly.” 

“You better, or I’ll send Miranda after you.” 

James lets out a laugh. It’s a warm thing, low and short like the glowing embers of a fire. There are few things better than the sound of James’ laughter, and Thomas makes a point of cherishing every single one he witnesses. 

“ _Soon._ I promise,” James insists and with that, Thomas nods and leaves him to finish whatever he’s working on, either assignments or his personal work. 

When he gets to their bedroom at the end of the hall he’s surprised to find Miranda still awake, tucked away in bed reading a magazine. Her hair is down, loose waves framing her face. The low light of the bedside lamp casts her in a warm glow making Miranda look like a work of art. He lingers, as he did with James, in the doorway to have a few moments to watch without her noticing. 

While Thomas is intimately familiar with every aspect of her body, he still finds himself taken back when he views her from a distance (and up close, for that matter). Sometimes it feels like he’s witnessing her for the first time. As if he is not yet familiar with the curve of her cheek, the arch of her brow, or the feel of her smile against his skin. 

“Thomas, just come to bed,” Miranda sighs without looking up from her magazine. 

Thomas frowns, but enters the bedroom. “And how did you know it was me?” 

“In fifteen years I’ve come to know the sound of your walk. Plus, James never hovers the way you do.” He’s pulling out his pajamas from the dresser so he doesn’t see her when she speaks, but Thomas can hear her smile nonetheless. 

Miranda is still reading once he’s finally changed. She doesn’t look up as Thomas crawls into bed, or when he moves her hair to the side so he can press a kiss against her shoulder. 

“That’s not true, by the way,” Thomas says as Miranda lifts her arm up, allowing him to curl against her side. “James hovers just as often as I do.” He drapes his arm over Miranda’s waist, holding her close. 

“Oh, I know he does. He’s just better at it than you. Comfortable?” she asks. Thomas has to crane his neck to finally see her warm eyes looking down at him. 

“Very much so.” 

Miranda kisses the top of his head. “Good.” 

They remain quiet, Miranda reading her magazine and Thomas listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing. It’s enough to lull him into sleep, which Thomas does not want. Not before James finally comes to bed.

Instead he tries to focus on the article Miranda’s reading. It seems to be a guide on the best way to transplant a certain type of plant. Thomas has to squint to see what particular plant it is. He thinks, reluctantly, that reading glasses might be in his future after all. Too much time reading in dim lighting as Miranda and James have scolded him on many occasions.

Thomas adjusts his position to get more comfortable, closer, sliding down so his head is cushioned on Miranda’s breast. He squints at the magazine again. The plant looks to be a type of bush. “Do we have that one?”

“Not yet, but I would like to get some for the front of the house. Do you think if I pick them up this week John would be willing to help plant them?”

“I think he’d enjoy that, yes.” Though he’s never said so outright, John always seems pleased whenever Miranda asks for his help on a project. And there have been many projects.

The garden in the backyard, for one, had been a project tackled by both Miranda and John. It was during the middle days of their relationship (between the four of them) that Miranda had requested John help her with the garden. James had been dating John for a couple months, but Thomas had been joining them more often than not. So it became a common occurrence that John would spend the odd weekend at their house.

They didn’t talk about it outright, especially not John, but everyone involved seemed comfortable with the arrangement. John would come over Fridays after work, or early on Saturday morning, then he’d leave sometime on Sunday.

It was one of those Sunday mornings Miranda had asked about the garden. Miranda had entered the kitchen after a shower looking fresh and radiant as only Miranda seemed capable of in the morning. John was standing at the island drinking a cup of orange juice. Thomas remembers that detail in particular because John practically choked on the juice when Miranda had asked for his assistance with the garden. It was the first activity either of them had initiated that would involve the two of them alone.

Miranda watched him with an amused grin before looking to James and Thomas. James feigned exasperation at John’s reaction, but it was clear he was pleased.

“So you’ll be sure to be here the following weekend and we’ll begin?” she asked when John finally regained composure.

John gave her a rueful smile. “Sounds like a date.” 

Later when she left the kitchen, John sat down at the table with Thomas and James, a satisfied look on his face. “I think she likes me.”

Thomas reached across the table to squeeze John’s hand. John had looked down at their hands like he was surprised to find them joined.

He smiled at John. “Of course she does.”

In return John looked doubtful, like he was still hesitant of his place in their lives. At that point John had been a constant in their lives for the past two months and Thomas was was beginning to hope they would never let go of him.

At first he was around through his relationship with James alone. Although he had yet to come around often, it felt as though John was already an active member of their family with the way James talked about him. And, _oh,_ when James talked about him he practically glowed with affection. He was nervous, too, always blushing when he’d say goodbye to them before meeting up with John. It reminded Thomas and Miranda of the days when they were both trying relentlessly to get James into their bed, and obviously, into their life. He was so unaware of the effect he had had on them.

It wasn’t until after James had asked Thomas to join them, at John’s apparent insistence (though he’d never openly admit it), that John started to spend more time at their house. And once he and Miranda had tackled the garden, the two of them were an unstoppable DIY team. Their projects since then have included: two freshly painted rooms in the house (featuring an exquisite accent wall), a completely redecorated office (which included a desk John found on the curb that the two spent weeks refurbishing), and put together a slightly lopsided bookcase that now resides in their living room (it is Thomas’ favorite). In fact, the two of them have a shared Pinterest board to save and share future projects with one another.

It’s inconsequential, but it pleases Thomas to no end. The thought of it makes Thomas chuckle.

Miranda hums. “What are you thinking about?”

Thomas finds Miranda’s hand and tangles their fingers. “You.” When Miranda scoffs, he smiles. “And John.”

“Ah, yes,” Miranda says, but she sounds fond. “Speaking of which, where is our James?”

“Working, it seems.” Thomas runs his thumb along the side of Miranda’s hand. “Do you think he’s been acting different?”

Miranda turns a page, considering. “Maybe a little.”

Then, as if summoned, James appears at the doorway. “Maybe a little what?” James asks around a yawn.

“Thomas thinks you’re acting strange.”

“Oh?” James says, sounding amused. “And how is that?”

There wasn’t anything in particular that James was doing that was out of the ordinary, but there was something about him this past week that felt off. James would get this faraway look on his face, too lost in his own thoughts, until Miranda or Thomas would engage him in some conversation. 

“You’ve seemed distracted lately,” Thomas finally settles on. “Like you’ve been somewhere else.”

James pauses, halfway out of his jeans, and looks at the two of them, his expression troubled. He doesn’t say anything at first, instead he finishes undressing slowly, clearly trying to prolong whatever conversation they’re about to have. When he’s finally down to his boxers and a t-shirt, he stands at the foot of the bed and watches the two of them. His posture is impeccable as ever, hands behind his back, looking as if he’s about to storm a battleground, not climb into bed with his husband and wife.

The silence from James is enough to pique Miranda’s interest. “James, darling,” she begins, finally looking up at him. “Why do you look so serious? Is something the matter?”

James shifts his gaze away from them and Thomas notes the way he twists his hands behind his back. Thomas begins to move, wanting to touch, needing to fix this, although he has no idea what _this_ is. Miranda’s hand in his own holds him in place.

“It’s not John, is it?” Thomas asks. “Has something happened?”

“What? God, no,” James says quickly. Miranda squeezes Thomas’ hand. “It’s not John. Not exactly.”

At first James doesn’t elaborate, he looks down again and Thomas is reminded of the time he first kissed James. He looked _scared _. Like an animal boxed in, unsure whether he should stay of flee before Thomas could get any closer. It hurts, even if it’s just a short pang to the chest, to see James like this now, closing himself off from them.__

____

____

Then finally, finally James looks up at them and says, “I love him.”

It feels as if they all let out a collective breath. Miranda squeezes Thomas’ hand once again. “Oh,” she says, simply. As if she really wanted to say, _is that all_? 

“ _Oh_?” James repeats, voice rising. “Miranda, I’m _in love_ with John.” He looks almost pained, as if they’re not fully understanding him.

“Yes, James, we heard you.” 

James watches them carefully. Miranda has gone back to turning pages in her magazine, but her casualness is response enough. Thomas beams at James, and he looks hopeful.

“You don’t mind?”

Of course they don’t mind, it would be hypocritical for them to think otherwise. And besides, Thomas has known for some time that James is in love with John. He knew from the beginning that James would fall for John because he was familiar with the nature of James’ heart. So yes, Thomas had almost counted on James falling in love, but he couldn’t have been sure of John. He could’ve broken James’ heart easily enough, but instead he seems to have taken great care of it, all while managing to lay an equal claim to Thomas’ own heart.

It’s Miranda who says, “No, of course we don’t mind.”

James, while looking relieved, still seems closed off.

“But there’s something else,” Thomas hedges.

James’ nod looks more like an involuntary twitch. He has the same pained expression on his face as he did earlier and that simply will not do. Thomas lets go of Miranda’s hand and motions for James to come to bed, but it’s Miranda who reaches out for him.

He looks hesitant, rooted at the foot of the bed, but then the mattress dips once more as he climbs toward them. Miranda leans forward to meet him halfway, letting her arms drape around his neck. James’ face has gone soft and fond looking at her, his cheeks pink. When they first met James would always flush when he had Miranda’s full attention. Even as the years have passed she still has the same effect on him. For her part Miranda has the same glimmer in her eye, something of a challenge, before she leans in to kiss James.

Thomas will never get tired of watching the two of them together like this. He’s seen them kiss before, just as soft and sweet. By now Thomas has to have seen them kiss a thousand times, but each time has felt like such a treasure. He doesn’t know what he did in a past life to deserve the two of them, here, loving each other just as much as he loves them. Sometimes it felt as if he had _too_ much. And now with the addition of John in their lives, Thomas felt he would burst with it all.

Miranda pulls away, but only a short distance, her thumb still brushing along James’ jaw. “What else is the matter?”

Now James pulls away, wincing as he leans back on his heels. He isn’t looking at either one of them, instead staring at the space just between them. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

“Oh James,” Thomas sighs, feeling almost relieved. “I love you deeply, but you can be very...” he falters, trying to find the right word.

“Stubborn,” Miranda finishes for him. 

James rolls his eyes looking more embarrassed now than anything else. It’s something he’s been told many times, one might say it’s a defining characteristic. Which is admirable when used in the right situations, for the right causes. When it’s more determination to see a thing through as opposed to refusing to see something that should be, and _is_ , very clear.

“Very stubborn,” Thomas agrees easily, “especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“Stubborn and blind,” Miranda mutters as she adjusts her pillows before leaning back against them.

James rolls his eyes and moves closer to Thomas. He notices the shift in James’ features, the small tick of a smile, and how he won’t really meet Thomas’ eyes before kissing him. It’s a lovely kiss, sharper than the one James had given Miranda moments ago, but Thomas isn’t a fool. When James pulls away Thomas levels him with a look. “You’re deflecting.”

“I’m not deflecting,” James says, sounding put out. He moves himself off of Thomas. “If I _was_ deflecting I would be putting a little more effort into it.” His fingers trail down Thomas’ front causing him to inhale sharply.

“ _James_ ,” Miranda warns and he reluctantly removes his hand.

Thomas doesn’t say anything more as James settles along his side, not wanting to give into his _deflection_. Their bedroom remains quiet save for the sound of Miranda smoothing out the pages of her magazine. Thomas is content to lay between the two of them, listening to the sounds of their breathing.

On some occasions, Thomas thinks, it would be better to leave this conversation for another day. Let James work things out on his own with the gentle prodding in the right direction from Miranda or Thomas, but this matter was too important to let lie.

“James,” he begins, but James doesn’t look. Thomas finds James’ hand and takes it in his own. “Look at me, please.”

When he does, Thomas is met with a James that looks lost and unsure of himself. Thomas wants to smooth his furrowed brow with a kiss. “Are you genuinely worried John doesn’t feel the same way?”

James frowns. “It’s not that, exactly,” he says hesitantly, his tone and expression telling Thomas that isn’t entirely true. “What we’ve built here, amongst the three of us, it’s so-- so much larger and full of love and life than a conventional partnership. It’s strong, I know that. We’ve stood against so many challenges.”

Thomas grimaces, his mind flashing back to thoughts of his late father, his harsh words against Miranda, against Thomas, the vile tone in which he dismissed any notion of their relationship. Then later colleagues and people they considered friends trying to interfere with, and damage their lives. Even James’ own apprehension and shame at the start of their relationship was something the three of them overcame. They have been through many obstacles, but they’ve made it work, and it’s worked so well all of these years.

“It feels delicate,” James says, voice soft, “everything that we’ve built here. Loving John seems like too much.”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems like too much to ask of the universe-- to ask of you _both _and to ask of John. It’s selfish. How the two of you could take my confession in such stride, I--”__

____

____

“Hold on, James.” Thomas’ stomach twists, feeling momentarily as if he's made a grave error. He takes James' head in his face wanting to make this right. “James, my darling idiot,” he begins, and the corner of James’ mouth quirks up in a half smile. Eyes downcast in embarrassment, reminding Thomas of the days when he and Miranda were trying to pursue him. James was so beautiful then, soft and unsure of himself, oblivious to how badly the two of them wanted him.

Nearly a decade later he is just as beautiful, and apparently just as oblivious.

Thomas smooths his thumbs against James’ cheekbones. He can feel Miranda shift behind him, her hands warm and reassuring against his back. “James, please know that I love John Silver very, very much.”

James’ eyes are glassy when Thomas leans forward and presses his lips to James slack mouth, attempting to convey all of what he’s been feeling these past months into this one kiss.

He pulls aways, feeling breathless. “I love you,” he says, kissing James just below the eye. “I love Miranda.” As he kisses James’ other cheek, he feels Miranda’s breath on the back of his neck, then the wet press of her lips below his ear.

“And I love you all. My boys,” she says, her voice warm and so full of affection. Her arm snakes around Thomas’ side and reaches for James’ hand. They stay like that, the three of them intertwined, each connected to one another at some point. Thomas would do it all again, every time, for moments like this.

“Maybe it is selfish to want all of this-- to want more with John. But I think we deserve it and I think he deserves it, too.”

Miranda murmurs her agreement against Thomas’ ear. She leans past him, chest completely pressed against his back, to kiss James. He hears the soft exhale as their mouths slot together, then the slick sound of Miranda pulling away, and James’ appreciative sigh.

They sit there for a few more minutes, enjoying the comfort of being pressed so closely together, before Thomas suggests they disentangle. “Only slightly,” he adds. 

When they maneuvered themselves, Miranda’s magazine was finally lost to the floor, and she manages to wedge herself between the two of them. Although the relationship she has with John doesn’t broach their same physical intimacy, he hopes one day John will also join the three of them in bed. He voices this hope to James and Miranda as he begins to drift off.

“I think some more conversations need to happen before then,” Miranda says. Then after a yawn, “You will tell him how you feel. Both of you.”

Thomas presses a kiss to her hair. “Of course.”

“James?” Miranda urges, but he remains silent. “He will feel the same, James. He just needs to hear it.”

James’ voice is quiet when he finally speaks again. “But what if he doesn’t?”

Thomas feels for James’ hand so he can tangle their fingers together as he considers this, the possibility that John doesn’t return their same feelings. It wasn’t the first time he thought about it, but recently he had kept that thought buried down, not sure how he would react if it were true.

After awhile he squeezes James’ hand. “Then we trust John to make the decision that’s best for him and that will be it.”

James doesn’t say anything more, but he does hold Thomas’ hand tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Silver's bit is next, but I'm still debating if I want to go with the angsty version or the fluffier version. Let me know what you think! :)


End file.
